Good Evening
by Artemis Day
Summary: Someone has been murdered. Someone else has amnesia. One person has been framed. Another faces danger from an unlikely source. And that's not even the half of it. A series of Hitchcockian oneshots for Zutara Week.
1. Happenstance

**A/N: Happy Zutara Week 2015, everybody!**

 **This year, all seven of my entries will be based on films directed by Alfred Hitchcock.**

* * *

Day One: Happenstance (based on Vertigo).

The last thing Zuko wants to hear anymore is that it wasn't his fault.

He's already heard it a dozen times. First Uncle said it, then Sokka said it, and then Aang. He was the worst. He came to Zuko after the funeral, his face pale and his eyes bloodshot, like he hadn't slept in a month. He spoke in hollow tones and Zuko almost couldn't hear, but when he said the words, they had never been clearer. Aang had sincerely meant them, just like they all did, and that only made it worse.

Because no matter how many times he hears it, or whose mouth it's coming out of, it's all a lie and he knows it.

Yesterday, the tattered remains of the Southern Water Tribe laid to rest someone who should have arrived home a hero. A boat full of mementos and old keepsakes from childhood was set out to sea and sunk where they should have remained the prized possessions of an owner who grew to old age surrounded by loved ones. A small, broken family huddled together in the freezing cold and tried not to cry, where they should have glowed with happiness, one person larger and finally reunited after years of war.

And nothing will ever be more true to Zuko than the simple fact that it is all his fault.

* * *

The worst part is not having the body.

He had awoken alone at the setting of the sun, with vague memories of agonizing pain that had dulled down to a tingle. Azula was unconscious in the garden, surrounded by charred grass and stepping stones, tear stains running down her cheeks. Aside from her, all that remained were a few singed pieces of cloth, some clumps of hair, and her necklace, attached to a fraying rope and cracked on one side from the fall.

Zuko's men had searched for her. Now that he was the Fire Lord and had them to command, he sent them scouring the nation for even a trace of her. Azula was of no help, not that Zuko expected her to be. The first thing she did upon waking up in a prison cell was spit blue flames at the guards and scream incoherently for their mother until one of the six men holding her was able to sedate her. If she knew what had happened, it was doubtful she could tell them. By all accounts, she had trouble stringing two words together. Her transfer to a proper mental facility was already in the works, and seeing her out of the Fire Nation and far away from him would be a great burden off of Zuko's shoulders.

But nothing would be greater than finding _her,_ andZuko never gave up hope that they would.

Not even when an entire month passed and the search parties gave up on her.

Not even when her family gave up on her.

Not even when _Aang_ gave up on her.

Perhaps not even now.

* * *

A year goes by, a quiet, somber one. At the same time, it's loud and chaotic. Zuko wonders how it can be both at the same time and finds no answer. It merely is what it is.

His goodwill efforts are bearing fruit, but there are still some tensions in the North and the South. His advisers suggest that a trip to one of the Water Tribes to promote peace would be in the Fire Nation's best interest. Uncle agrees with them, and he makes sure to mention how long it's been since they've seen Sokka and how nice it might be to visit an old friend. Zuko knows him well enough to read between the lines, and he wishes he was as brave as Uncle thinks he is, but going to the Southern Water Tribe means seeing that memorial erected in ice, and that means facing the fact that she won't be there.

She'll never be there.

And he's a coward.

He makes plans to visit the Northern Water Tribe in a week.

* * *

Chief Arnook arranges a warm welcome for him, but when Zuko stands before the man, he feels the chill in his eyes, even as he's smiling. It's clear that nobody will be forgetting the last time Zuko was here any time soon.

He stays in a luxury apartment in the south wing of the Chief's home. It's not quite as grand as the palace, but the view of the ocean is breathtaking. Uncle takes his tea by the window so he can look out, and Zuko doesn't think he's seen the old man so at peace since before the war began. He'd like to sit and join him, but his feet are restless, and there are only so false smiles and empty words he can take before he needs some time to himself.

Getting out without being seen is easy. He's had enough practice with stealth and spying that he could probably walk right through Chief Arnook's office if he wanted to. Though he doesn't know the area well (or, indeed, at all) there are certain shops and marketplaces that are as familiar to him as if he was still wandering the Earth Kingdom on an ostrich horse. Some things are universal, and tiny backwater bars, it seems, are one of them.

He takes gulps and then sips of his drink as the heavy liquid settles in his stomach. He had asked for something mild, and what he got makes him wonder what a really strong drink from this place would be like. He presses two fingers into his temples, staving off the headache he knows is well on the way.

"You want some more?"

The voice comes from the bartender. Not the one who served Zuko his drink- that man walked out at the end of his shift twenty minutes ago- but the new one who has been mixing drinks out of sight while Zuko stared out the window lost in thought. He glances up to tell her no, he hasn't even finished the first yet.

"No, I'm fi-" is all he gets out, and then he sees her.

And he stares at her.

She stares back.

And he feels like time has stopped.

* * *

One month after the funeral, Uncle had taken him aside. He wore the stern expression of a parent about to lecture a misbehaving child, but when he spoke, his words were all warmth and regret and heart wrenching sympathy.

"I know this is hard for you," he had said. "But you must accept that she is gone and move on."

But like a stubborn child, Zuko wouldn't hear him.

"I don't believe it," he said.

* * *

Looking at her now, it's almost hard to believe that she's the same person he knew before.

Gone are the flowing locks that reached her lower back and shined in the light of the sun. Now she wears her hair cropped to the ears. Her attire is stereotypical 'serving wench' dress; tight in some places, loose in others. Her dark skin is worn and cracked around the eyes and hands like she;s been working hard and sleeping little. Most jarring is the way in which her lips pucker as she meets his look of astonishment with one of indifference, like he's nothing more to her than the same kind of drunk this bar sees every day.

"Well? You want more or not?"

"I..." Zuko can't recall another time when he was this tongue tied. Then again, it's not often that a close friend suddenly comes back from the dead. "I... you... you're here... you're..."

She rolls her eyes.

"Okay, better cut you off."

She takes his drink and drops it in a bin. Then she goes to serve another man who seems to think her eyes are in her chest and has probably had more to drink than Zuko could ever hope to sustain. He stares after her, lost in a swirl of memories and incoherent, half formed thoughts of what might explain this, until the sky turns pink and he remembers that he's a traveling world leader and there will be nothing but trouble if they go to wake him up and find his room empty.

It takes all the strength in his body to let go of the bar and walk out, blending into the shadows as the number of people walking around increases with the early morning rush. He watches her through the open door, counting money from the cash box and occasionally casting dull eyes around the room, until he is too far away and she falls out of sight.

* * *

He doesn't tell Uncle what he saw. He doesn't tell anyone. Not yet. First he has to talk to her.

He's not quite sure why he's keeping it a secret. In all his dreams of finding her, the first thing he did was get everyone they'd ever known together and scream it to the rooftops that he'd been right all along. Now that it's happened, he no longer needs to dream, and the reality is far more complicated.

So he keeps silent throughout a day of meetings and banquets and public addresses. He says nothing when Uncle asks if he slept well, and turns in as early as he can without causing offense. He has to wait an hour for the rest of them to sleep. It's true what they say about waterbenders rising with the moon. Eventually, he's free to sneak out, and then he's back in that same seedy bar, on the same creaking stool, drinking from what may very well be the same stained tankard.

And then she's there again.

"I see you're back for more," she says, leaning so far over him that he has to look to the side to avoid a face full of her cleavage.

"I'm here for you," he says, realizing only too late how that sounds. It's really amazing that his brief time as Fire Lord, his fantastic ability to put his foot in his mouth hasn't gotten him anything worse than a single failed romantic relationship.

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Sorry, buddy. I'm just a bartender. You want that sort of service, you're going to have to go two doors down."

She starts to leave.

"Wait!"

She stops. Looks at him, still like she doesn't know him.

"Do you have a problem or something?"

He shakes his head. It's not the only part of him that's shaking either.

"I just... I mean... I couldn't believe it when I saw you yesterday," he says, and already he knows he's not off to a good start. "To think, all this time, you've been here... for a whole year..."

"A year?" she repeats. "I've been here a little longer than that. Are you sure you're not confusing me for someone else?"

"No," he says quickly. _Too_ quickly. "I know exactly who you are, and I..."

He's gone over this moment a hundred times since yesterday. There are so many ways he can break the ice, so to speak. So many things he knows should be asked first. Like how she survived or why she disappeared or what she's doing pouring drinks to grim faced sailors with wandering eyes when she should be with her family, celebrating a year of peace and preparing to spend her life with... the one she loves.

(He starts to think 'Aang', but it feels like a gut punch.)

"I just..."

He falters, and she crosses her arms. She's seconds away from going, and he has to do something fast.

"I missed you," he says like the world's biggest idiot. "I missed you a lot."

He looks in her eyes, and he prays to Agni that the girl he once knew will look back, but she doesn't.

"Okay," she says with a sigh. "I don't know what you're on, but quite honestly, this is starting to creep me out."

She picks up a dishrag and walks into the kitchen. Barely a second passes before Zuko is on his feet. There's a sign on the door that reads 'EMPLOYEES ONLY' and he ignores it. Rules be damned, he's the Fire Lord, and he's not letting her disappear again. In the back room, a large, greasy man pulls bottles out of boxes and places them on the moldy selves. There's no sign of her anywhere. For a split second, Zuko fears the worst. Maybe she really did vanish or maybe she was never there to start with. Maybe he's finally gone mad with grief. Then he sees the swinging door that leads outside, and a hint of blue moving around the corner.

Zuko breaks into a run. The man with the bottles either doesn't notice him or doesn't care, and not once does anyone scream at him to stop as he crosses the room. He feels cold air snap in his face as he stands alone in the yard. There's a fence with a gap along one side, just wide enough for a person her size to fit through. Her name plays at his lips, spoken softly like a prayer, or a desperate hope.

* * *

The next night comes slower than the last, even though he's had comparatively less to do. One afternoon tea with Chief Arnook and his advisers (where little is discussed beyond Uncle's fondness for the tribe's fragrant ginseng), and he is free to pace around his room until night falls.

This time, he vows to stop dancing around the issue and find out exactly what she's doing here. He's going to go in headlong and get some answers from her, and nothing is going to stop him.

"I'm afraid we won't be serving you tonight, stranger," says the beefy man guarding the front entrance of the bar, who eyes Zuko like he's something that's been chewed and spit up.

"Why not?" Zuko asks, shielded by the hood that hides his identity. "I have money to spend here. You have no right to turn me away."

"I do when you've been harassing my employees."

"I've never harassed anyone."

"My bar wench says different. Now, if you want a drink, you can just walk on over to the place across the street, because unless you're some kind of state official or the chief of the Water Tribe, you're not getting in here."

He starts to walk back inside. Alarm bells go off as a deafening roar in Zuko's head. He sees the man's hand on the door, intent on closing it and locking it and keeping her from him. He's going to lose her again if he doesn't...

"What if I was the Fire Lord?"

The man stops in his tracks, turns his head as Zuko removes the hood. His scarred face is bright, even in the dead of night, thanks to the lamp light flickering nearby. The presence of a flame, however small, is calming to him. He takes deep, even breaths, inhaling the scent of ash that keeps him from losing control and burning the door to ashes. He sees the man's face go through a variety of changes, from annoyed, to confused, to understanding, to afraid, to enraged.

"You idiot!"

Zuko thinks at first that it's him being yelled at until the man yanks her out from inside the bar. Protective rage courses through him as she's manhandled. He clenches a fist and it grows hot.

"Didn't you realize he was the Fire Lord this whole time? Are you that stupid?"

He shakes her, and her words are unintelligible as she tries and fails to free her shirt collar from his grasp. Her efforts are for naught as he lets her go and she falls backwards. She moans in pain as she rubs her bruised rear end, and her boss is unmoved.

"Do me a favor and never let me see your face around here again!"

"Fine, whatever!" she shouts back.

With tears in her eyes, she tears away from the bar down the street. Ignoring the worthless man's apologies, Zuko follows her. He no longer cares if anyone sees him. All that matters is keeping his eyes on that bob hair and using his longer legs to close the distance between them.

"Let go of me!" she screams when he catches her. "Let go!"

He has to cover her mouth before her cries attract attention. Half carrying her, he leads them to a darkened alleyway. He walks until he just about can't see in front of his face, and only then does he let her go and let her back a good foot and a half away from him.

"I hope you're happy," she shouts at him, eyes shining. "That was the best paying job I've had in months, and now thanks to you, I've lost it! What the hell is even wrong with you that you keep following me around? What do you want from me?"

She's breathing heavily, and he is, too. His clammy hands reach out to her, and she backs away. She walks into a wall, as if she's forgotten which way they came in. He stands over her, taking in every inch of that face he once knew; everything he remembers and everything he never noticed before. He's never seen a more beautiful face in his life.

"I know who you are," he says.

She grits her teeth. "No, you don't."

He puts out one hand to support himself as he digs through his pocket. She glances to the side like she's searching for the best escape route. He has to hold it in front of her face for her to see it, glimmering in the minimal light and yet unmistakable. Her mouth opens soundlessly. Her fingers reach, but don't touch, as if she dare not try to take back what had once been hers to cherish. The betrothal necklace, still bearing cracks from that horrible day he's spent a whole year trying to forget, on a new thread made from the finest silk he could find. She stares at it, following it's sway with hypnotic focus.

"I know you," he says hoarsely, "and you know me... Katara."

The dam breaks. With a cry, she falls into him, clutching him so tightly that he can hardly take a breath. He still holds her necklace. He'll gives it back to her after they've had a very long talk about where she has been and what she's been doing and why... why... just why?

He tell himself that it's not important, not yet. Later, it will be important. Later, it will matter. Now, what matters most is that she's here and it's _her_.

He knows it's her.

It _has to be_ her.

Here now, in his arms, right where she belongs. Where she will stay for as long as he can hold her.

Where she will stay forever.


	2. Vigil

Day Two: Vigil (based on Rear Window)

"You know, in most cultures, this would be considered stalking."

Zuko ignored Toph's voice for the umpteenth time that day. He had already decided that if she wasn't going to be helpful, she might as well not be there at all. Convincing her to go find something else to do was the hard part, and he was still working on a way to not seem rude about it.

He raised his binoculars- a relatively new and invariably useful invention- to his eyes and viewed the lush, vibrant colors of his neighbor's garden. The flowers were just coming into bloom, coaxed out of hiding after a long Winter. This part of the Earth Kingdom, farther up north and isolated, was known for it's harsh winter months, second only to the North and South Poles. That was why the dawn of Spring was such a joyous occasion for those who made their home here. When the warm winds came to melt away the snow, everyone threw open their windows to embrace the season. That was the sight that greeted Zuko every morning, when he wheeled himself out onto the balcony for another day of pointless, yet oddly compelling people-watching.

But maybe that wasn't fair of him. His great-grandfather's refurbished summer home was a perfectly good place for him to recover from a broken leg. While Uncle handled affairs back home, the Fire Lord enjoyed a month of peace and serenity and mind-numbing boredom. Were it not for Katara's presence and Toph's frequent barging in, all he would have to keep his mind active would be the gardener who practiced pick-up lines on his rake, the middle aged couple in the house across the way who were finding new and creative ways to reinvent interpretive dance, and, of course, the man in the house next door who went out every morning at quarter after three with heavy sacks over his shoulder. The man whose bedridden wife, Zuko last saw through her bedroom window over a week ago.

"What I don't get," Toph said, breaking the silence, "is if you really think this guy killed his wife, why don't you just get a bunch of your guys together and go arrest him?"

Zuko glanced at Katara, who offered him a helpless smile before going back to watching the neighbor go through a box of jewelry in his kitchen.

"Toph, for the last time, I don't have that kind of authority here," he said.

"Now that's a damn shame," she answered, stepping into view. "It's too bad you're not the Fire Lord or anything like that. Oh, wait..."

She turned her head sharply in his direction, a look of mock surprise dripping from her sightless eyes.

"Just because I'm the Fire Lord doesn't mean I can go around arresting people without evidence. That would be a serious abuse of power."

"So instead, you're gonna stalk the guy."

"It's _not stalking!"_

"Shhhh!" Katara waved a hand in Zuko's face, nearly smacking the lens in her haste. "He's on the move."

Zuko snapped to attention. Disregarding Toph's disapproving sighs and comments of 'this could be over so fast if it's wasn't for Mr. Noble here,' he watched his neighbor exit the modernized bungalow that Zuko's mansion-like home dwarfed by an order of a magnitude. He was carrying the sack, as large and overloaded as ever. The neighbor struggled under it's weight, his knobby knees banging together like they would snap in half with one wrong move.

"Do you see that?"

"Yeah, wow, it's all so clear," said Toph with a grin.

"He has something important in that bag," Zuko said, looking once more, hoping and dreading in equal measure that red blood would drip from the open top. "Look at how he keeps checking to make sure nobody can see him."

"Maybe it's his wife's things," said Katara.

"Maybe it's his _wife_ ," said Toph, earning stares that even in her blindness she knew she was getting. "Don't act like I'm the only one thinking it. It makes total sense that if he killed his wife, he wouldn't just drag a body out in the open even if it is in the dead of night."

"So what are you thinking?" asked Zuko.

She shrugged. "Eh, I'm just saying that there's probably a little bit of her all over the place by now. You know, a finger bone in the birdbath, a rib or two in the flowerbed-"

" _Toph!_ We're going to eat dinner soon!"

"Don't bother me, Sugar Queen. If you didn't want my input, you shouldn't have invited me."

With a sigh, Katara placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder. The touch of her skin, even through cloth, was soothing to Zuko's rapidly fraying nerves. He had to have a laugh at himself, thinking back to the days when being a policeman or a detective seemed like the coolest thing in the world. If only he'd known then what he knew now. So much for resting off that injury in a peaceful environment. The last three days and nights had been emotionally and mentally tasking in a way only learning to lightning bend could ever compare to.

That was why he thanked Agni ever day that Katara was here. This wonderful, beautiful woman he would soon call his wife. He didn't know what he'd do without her.

"You know" she said, lowering her binoculars as the neighbor disappeared through the gate, "if he's out of the house, and there's no one else around, that means the place is empty."

She wore a smile that Zuko didn't return. He knew far too well exactly what she was getting at.

As did Toph.

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" She stepped out further onto the balcony There was no need to keep to the shadows now that their subject was away. "Last time he went off, he was gone for how long, Sparky? About an hour? That's plenty of time to do a little snooping."

"You two can't possibly be talking about breaking into his house."

"Don't tell me you're going to play the rule card on this one, too," Toph said. "I thiought you wanted to prove he's a murderer."

"Of course I want to prove it. That's not what I'm trying to say," Zuko lifted himself as much as the pain would allow him out of his wheelchair. "If you go in there and he happens to come home early, you'll be in serious trouble. What if he did to you guys what he did to his wife?"

Toph gave him a flat look. "Zuko... I'm an earthbending master. She's a waterbending master. This guy's got nothing on us."

Zuko didn't bother turning to Katara for help. This was her idea to start with and he knew from experience that when Katara set her mind to something- be it defying him to protect the Avatar or making sure the court officials understood that they couldn't stop her from marrying him- nothing was going to stand in her way, come hell or high water.

(It was one of the many things he loved about her.)

Before their stone faced expressions, Zuko heaved a sigh of defeat.

"Just... just keep your eye so n the windows," he said. "If I see him coming back, I'll light the lantern. It's starting to get dark, so it won't look suspicious."

Toph was already out the door. "Read you loud and clear, Chief! See you on the other side."

Zuko held Katara's hand before she went. He didn't know what was making him so nervous when he knew Toph was right. Just one of them alone could probably kill a scrawny non-bender like the one they were targeting. With the two of them together, just about the only legitimate concern he should have would be that they'd scare the man too much to get a confession out of him Perhaps it was simply as Uncle said. Love really did do strange things to a man.

"Be careful," he told her, imploring her while he cursed his bum leg that prevented him from joining her.

"It'll be fine, Zuko, I promise." She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then another to his lips. She lingered there for one delightful moment before pulling away. "Now let's get this guy, okay?"

Zuko nodded and saw her off. Wheeling himself forward, he picked up binoculars and followed Toph and Katara's path along the pond's smooth stepping stone bridge all the way to the other end of the garden. Most of it was still on his property, but near the end, they stepped over the boundary onto foreign territory. The neighbor had been digging up his side of the soil (yet another factor that pointed to his guilt; what could he be burying there?) and so the ground all around them was loose. They both carefully avoided stepping in dirt and leaving footprints, Toph as agile as ever and Katara meticulous with each and every fall of her feet.

They made it into the house without a problem. The lock on the door was child's play for an earthbender. They vanished from view into the house, down a hallway lit by a single dying lamp. Zuko gripped his binoculars tightly, alternating between the large open windows where Katara and Toph had just reappeared, to the gates his neighbor had gone through, swinging in the wind. He kept the lantern close. He had no matches, but a flame would be easy for him, if not exactly inconspicuous. There was no helping it. Call him a worrywart, but he wouldn't risk wheeling himself back inside across the spacious bedroom to the dresser where the matches were buried under some robes, while Katara was going through drawers and cabinets on enemy grounds. She didn't even know what she was looking for, and judging from the smirk Toph wore and the glares Katara threw at her every few minutes, she wasn't getting much help either.

For now, he kept steady his vigil, wave the all clear sign whenever Katara looked up. She paused in her search at one point to pace around the living space. It was nice to look at with it's clean, modern furnishings and fine decorations, but all Zuko could see was the blood that might have been splattered on those walls, or the holes that could be hidden behind those paintings. He focused on Katara. She had picked up something from the end table, examining it on all sides with a puzzled expression, muttering words Zuko couldn't make out.

Zuko turned to the gates for one second. Looked back at Katara. Snapped back to the gates which were closed where they had moments ago been open.

The neighbor was coming back.

His sack hung at his side, empty and limp. He walked slowly along the path, eyes shifting back and forth at the homes on his side of the block. They were silent and still, their residents unaware of what lurked next door to them.

Zuko fumbled with the binoculars, saved from dropping them only by the strap tangled around his wrist. He punched a flame into the lantern. The neighbor either didn't see it or didn't think anything of it. He never once looked Zuko's way as he started across the bridge.

"Come on, Katara, look up," Zuko said through grit teeth. "Look up."

She did. Her face was bright as if a major revelation had come to her. She only faltered a little at the glowing lamplight, turning to Toph to let her know that it was time to go. As one, the two of them ran. Toph for the door... Katara for the bedroom.

Wait, what the hell did she think she was doing?

Toph reached the door and ran around the corner. The neighbor wasn't there yet, having stopped to check the flowers in his garden and stomp down some risen mounds of soil. Toph pressed her body flat against the side of the house out of sight, waiting for him to turn his back before she took off, never once looking back. And Katara was still inside.

 _Katara was still inside._

"Why did you leave her like that?" Zuko shouted when Toph slid onto the balcony on her always bare feet. "He's going back inside right now!"

"Hey, don't blame me, Sparky," she snapped back. "I told Sugar Queen we had to go, but she said she had an idea and she needed to find something first."

"Find something? Find _what?_ What could be so important that she'd risk getting caught?"

"How should I know? She just told me to go on without her and she'd be back soon."

Unable to argue further, Zuko grabbed his binoculars. The neighbor had just reentered his home. The sack had been deposited in a refuse bin and as the door closed behind him, Zuko felt as though he was right there, hearing the slam and the click of the lock echo endlessly in his ears. Any second now, that man would go into his bedroom, and if Katara was in there, there would be no way out.

 _'No, don't think like that,'_ Zuko told himself furiously. _'She's a waterbender. She took down Azula, she can take this guy. It's just the fear talking. It's just the fear talking. It's just the fear talking.'_

"Do you see anything?"

Toph's voice jolted Zuko back to reality, and he pressed the lens so hard into his eyes that it hurt. His acute hearing had yet to pick up any sounds, be it a voice or a thud or a scream. The neighbor seemed to just be walking around his house like nothing was wrong. He moved across the living room without a clue of how it had been searched moments ago.

"She's not there," Zuko said, and once again, he felt the fear and the dark thoughts start to take over. "I can't see her. What if he catches her?"

"Come on, Zuko, you have to have more faith in me than that."

Zuko spun the chair around, so fast that it made him dizzy. Katara leaned against the door, arms crossed with an easy smile. Something blue in color was clutched to her chest, and she seemed to be taking care not to crush it. She went to his side and looked out at the neighbor, lounging on his couch none the wiser.

"Sorry for making you wait for me," she said.

"But how did you get out without him seeing you?"

"Well, he has a back door."

Katara sunk to her knees to meet his eyes. Whatever she had taken was balled up in her hand and she seemed to dance in place with excitement.

"I realized as I was looking around his house that there were a lot of recreations of water tribe artwork, and I couldn't believe I never noticed that him and his wife were obviously water tribesmen."

"So what does that mean?" asked Toph.

"It means," Katara said without looking away from Zuko, "that if there's one thing I know about my people, it's that no self-respecting married woman would ever go _anywhere_... without her betrothal necklace."

Katara opened her hand, letting a small pendent on a blue ribbon hang from her ring finger before Zuko's eyes. He took in the carvings and the tiny flecks of red that peppered the string, and he thought he could've kissed Katara.

So he did.


	3. Clandestine

Day Three: Clandestine (based on North by Northwest)

"I know you didn't do it."

She spoke to him through a curtain, her shadow matching his as he sat to keep his feet from sticking out under the tapestry. This was not the best hiding place all things considered. His frame was not large, but he was still a young man of average height and weight. He had flattened himself against the wall as much as he possibly could, his face half crushed into the stone. That none of the guards or police officers running around had noticed the obvious bulge under the ceremonial tapestry could only be explained by sheer dumb luck.

And then _she_ showed up.

"Why should I care?"

His words were curt and harsh and entirely uncalled for, even he knew it. Especially since the person sitting next to him had absolutely no reason to be here talking to him and not getting a big posse together to take his head. He had only chased her and the Avatar all around the world with the intent of carting the latter off to his father if he caught them. He had only tied her up once and then tried to bribe her with what was clearly her most prized possession in exchange for the Avatar. How ironic it was, when he laid it all out like that, that the one time he was made to pay for a heinous act, it would be for one he hadn't committed.

"I'm just trying to help you," she said crossly. "I don't have to be here, you know."

"Then go," Zuko said, pushing his legs higher under his chin. "You don't want to get caught talking to a wanted killer anyway."

"You're not a killer, Zuko."

He scrunched his eyes closed, but then had to open them again. For the last day and a half, all he had seen in the space behind his eye lids was the lifeless body of that kindly old man falling into his arms with a smoldering burn on his back. It had been on pure instinct that Zuko had summoned a flame, ready to take on any assassin who dared strike next. When someone in the crowd had shouted, he'd been caught unaware.

"That firebender killed the old man!"

He'd been confused for a moment, lost in a daze, and when the arms of two men wrapped around him, he'd reacted without thinking. He fought his way out, careful not to bring anyone else harm. There was a time and a place for everything. A room full of innocent civilians, Earth Kingdom or no, was not that place. Loathed as he was to give the waterbender girl credit, she was right about one thing: he wasn't a killer.

"I can help you," she said again, and a dark skinned hand reached through the gap and rested over his. Any desire to rip it away and snarl at her to never touch him again dissipated upon the feel of her soft skin cooling him.

 _'She has very nice hands,'_ he thought involuntarily.

"Oh yeah? How?"

"Well, I can help you find whoever is trying to frame you."

"You still haven't told me what amazing skill set you have that'll aid me," Zuko said. "Playing with water doesn't count."

Her cool fingers became colder all of a sudden, and Zuko jerked away. The background noise was growing in volume as guardsmen read off a physical description of the murderous Prince Zuko who roamed free and prowled the streets, but he thought he could hear her laughing.

"I may not have ever done any detective work," she said, "but I'm pretty good at reading people, and I know a bad guy when I see one. You are... well, like I said, I don't think you'd ever kill anyone."

"Thanks," Zuko muttered, looking away. Maybe if he pretended to be asleep, she'd get bored and go away.

"First of all, why don't you tell me what really happened."

He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"Most people want to know all sides of the story so they can come to the right conclusion." Out the corner of his eye, her shadow shifted. She was sitting up straighter. It looked much more comfortable than what she was doing before. "Everyone is saying that you grabbed the man and set him on fire in cold blood."

Zuko shook his head. He made the mistake of closing his eyes again, and there was that wrinkled face with a dying look of shock pain shining through sightless eyes as he pitched forward-

"I was hiding out in a tavern," Zuko said. He pulled his traveling cloak tight around his shoulders. "I was trying to be indiscreet. I just wanted to get something to eat. The old man tending bar came over. He said I looked like I was out of sorts and he wanted to know if I needed help."

"You're saying he just approached you right out of the blue?"

"Well, admittedly, I didn't look very good." Zuko looked down at his hands, thin and bony after so many months alone. "He said that he could get me a room for the night if I needed it. I was going to take him up on his offer, but when I got up... he just... I don't kow, it all happened so fast."

"Go on," she said. She was holding his hand again.

Against his better judgement, Zuko closed his eyes. It gave him the best picture of what happened. Of the old man falling, of the people screaming...

"He was hit from behind. I didn't see who did it." Zuko's free hand clenched the lining of his robe harder enough to wear a hole in it. "It might not have even been a firebender. The way the hole looked... it was sloppy work, like the killer had just one shot and only a split second to take it. I thought whoever had attacked him was after me and the old man had just been in the way. I was ready to fight, but instead, I ended up incriminating myself. All anyone saw was an innocent man dead in the arms of a firebender."

This time, when he opened his eyes, it didn't provide any relief. He saw the smoking corpse as his arms gave out, twitching and curling up in the final throes of death. He saw a mob of patrons ganging up on him, thirsting to avenge their own. He saw a bolt of black making for the door in the commotion, unseen and disregarded by all but Zuko, who was left to wonder if the real killer hadn't just slipped out under everyone's noses.

He let his head fall backwards, staring at the ceiling, counting circles and lines as a new kind of chill coursed through him. It made him shake and shiver, and only her fingers sliding up his arm could ease the churning in his stomach as bile threatened to surge up his throat.

"It's okay," she said softly, comfortingly, almost like his mother had once been. "You don't have to tell me any more."

"There's nothing more to tell," Zuko said. "I have that man's blood on my hands. Even if I didn't kill him myself, whoever did has to have been after me. He was just unlucky enough to be in the way. Now he's dead, and I have to find out who did this."

"Why? Why does it matter so much to you?"

His first thought was of what a stupid question that was, with such an obvious answer, too. To ask him why was the same as asking why the sky was blue, or why water was wet. His second thought was that what was clear to him didn't always reach everyone else.

"Ever since I was banished, all I've cared about is regaining my honor, but what honor would there be in running away from this? I have to find this man and face him or else I'm just a coward."

There was silence for a time, except for the guards calling for all able bodied men to aid in their search, and then leading the recruits out to begin the manhunt. They left without a single eye for his painfully obvious hiding place. Perhaps he was more crafty than he thought.

The curtain was drawn, and for a moment, Zuko forgot that he had been talking to another person for the past few minutes. The waterbender (he supposed he would have to learn her name now) wore a look he couldn't place as she jumped into his arms and held him steady. Her undone hair muffled his yelp of surprise. She was a lot stronger than she looked. If he was honest, her embrace wasn't as vile or objectionable as the person he had been last week might've thought it was. As his bigger, calloused hands came around her waist, he'd wager that he even liked this a little.

She wasn't so bad, this waterbender.

They stayed that way for some time, until the last few stragglers had gone home or to join in the search party, and all that remained were the two of them and the deaf cleaning lady sweeping up dust by the door. It was just them; Zuko, Katara, and the many thoughts raging through Katara's head like a herd of rampaging bulls. They always circled back to early in the day. 

* * *

_"I don't know about this, you guys. It seems way too dangerous."_

 _"Don't start getting cold feet now, twinkletoes. Katara has already agreed to do it."_

 _"I know, but I just think it's too risky. What if something happens to her? If Zuko really is capable of murder-"_

 _"What do you mean 'really is'? We know he is. You heard about what he did that that old guy, and if that's what he does to innocent people, who knows what he'll do to us?"_

* * *

She had agreed with Sokka then. That was why she'd volunteered to be the bait for Zuko, the one to hold out the proverbial olive branch and try to figure out just what kind of plans he had in store for them. She hadn't expected their first meeting to go quite like this. For him to be so open with her.

To tell her the truth even.

She had come here expecting nothing more than to play her part and bring a killer to justice. She would leave knowing that he was a better person than she could ever have imagined. Than perhaps he himself could've imagined.

He hadn't lied to her, he wasn't the killer.

And now, Katara didn't know what to do.


	4. Rue

Day Four: Rue (based on Rebecca)

It's not because of the housekeeper.

She's not locked in her chambers with the curtains drawn and her face pressed into the pillow because of that women and her deceitfully kind eyes and words laced with venom.

If Katara repeats it to herself enough times, it might just become true. If she can just numb herself to what has happened tonight- to the hush that fell over the ballroom when she entered, to the confusion in half the eyes that looked upon her and the cold indignation in the other half, to the way Zuko turned puce and dropped his drink to the floor, to the way he had rushed her out of the room amid a roar of whispers, to the way he shook with a rage she wouldn't understand until later- if she can make herself forget it all, maybe she can make it through this with her dignity intact.

She pulls her head from the pillow when she needs to come up for air. The satin pillowcase is soaking wet with tear stains and running makeup. Her face must be a complete mess by now. She goes to the mirror and wipes away what's left of the paint. Some spots are more difficult than others, and she rubs her skin raw to clean it. She just needs to get it all off.

There comes a knock on the door, and then it opens a crack.

"Can I come in?" asks Zuko.

Katara doesn't speak, but gives a tiny nod of her head, and Zuko accepts it. He closes the door behind him, and Katara hopes those aren't more whispers she hears from the maids out in the hall.

"Are you all right?"

Katara wishes he hadn't asked her that. There is nothing one can say to such a question except that yes, they are all right. Even if they don't really mean it. It's just what everyone wants to hear and what everyone wants to believe.

"I'm fine," Katara obliges him, and she even throws in a phony smile for good measure.

"No, you're not," Zuko says, because he's so honest these days that he doesn't know how to do this right. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

She turns away when he tries to touch her arm, and instantly feels bad for it. She doesn't want to be cold to him, especially not now.

"You know what happened," she says.

"Not everything," Zuko says, stepping closer. "I know you didn't find that dress on your own, what I don't know is where you got it from."

"Ask your housekeeper," Katara says bitterly, turning towards the window and the while sliver of moonlight that peeks through.

When she thinks about it now, she should've known better than to trust that woman. Because she was old and small and her back wasn't good, Katara had taken everything she said with good humor, even when it became uncomfortable. She had chalked up the woman's obsession with the former lady of the palace as mere senility. Surely, had she been in her right mind, she wouldn't laud the former princess the way she did.

"Princess Azula used to walk these very halls with such grace and beauty."

"Princess Azula had such a way about her that commanded attention."

"Princess Azula was a beacon to this nation, a light that I pray will never die even if she is no longer here with us."

On and on she would talk about Azula, while cleaning the rooms that used to be hers and had now been remodeled and redecorated to suit Katara's tastes. At first, Katara ignored it, the woman spoke mostly to herself anyway. It was easy to assume she was reminiscing about better times before all the madness, when Zuko and Azula were just a brother and a sister. She _had_ been there since before they were born. She would remember.

Then, she started asking questions. Simple things about Katara's life at home and what she hoped for in the future. Katara answered politely as her mother always taught her, and the woman had listened, or seemed to. Now, Katara had to wonder at every communication they ever had. How many times had the woman really cared what Katara was saying, and how many times was she sneering on the inside, comparing Katara to an ideal that no sane person would ever want to meet.

She feels a lessening of Zuko's presence at her back. He walks away from her, and the loss of him is acute. Katara has never realized before how much she relies on him in times like this. She's more often than not the calmer of the two, the rock that Zuko clings to when he needs to control his anger. Sometimes, the roles are reversed. This is one of those times.

"You know," Zuko says, "when I had Azula's things removed from the palace, I noticed that this dress wasn't listed in the inventory."

With his foot, he nudges the bunched up pile of red and gold silk Katara abandoned in the farthest corner of the room. Little bits of cloth that were ripped in Katara's frenzy are littered around it. That housekeeper would probably keel over if she saw the state the dress was in. No royal would ever be caught dead in it now.

"She gave it to me," Katara says, wrapping her arms around herself. "She didn't tell me who it used to belong to, just that she thought I'd look beautiful in it. Like a true Fire Lady. Those were her exact words."

She wants to tell Zuko the other thing the woman said, as she was walking out of the room to finish her chores and let Katara finish getting ready for the banquet. At the time, Katara had paid it no mind, thought perhaps she had misheard in her anxiety, maybe even imagined it completely. Now, she knows better.

 _"Of course, you'll_ never _be a true Fire Lady, will you?"_

"I'm sorry I made such a big mess of things," she says, hating herself for how weak she sounds.

Zuko looks at her, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he steps over the dress and takes two long strides to where she is. He pulls her into his arms. He feels so warm and strong against her, and Katara is overcome with just how much she's come to love him in their time together. Whatever she had felt for Aang as a young and naive teenager, it doesn't hold a candle to this.

"You don't have to apologize," he murmurs in her ear. "This was not your fault. You couldn't have known."

Katara leans forward, touching her forehead to his shoulder. "I think she wanted to humiliate me. Make me regret coming here."

"She's the one who's going to feel regret now," Zuko says in a low voice he reserves for difficult council meetings and people who have insulted her to his face. "You don't have to worry about her anymore. I don't think she realizes how easily replaceable she is."

Katara looks up and gives him a smile. He returns it, and then he hugs her tighter, pressing her face into his undershirt. It smells just like him, spicy and warm. Little declarations of love pass between them, and eventually, they find there way to the bed, where they rest under the heavy quilts in the golden light of a dying fire. Long after Zuko has fallen asleep, Katara stays up to watch him. She plays with his hair and caresses his face. She keeps her eyes on him and away from the window, where if she looks too closely for too much time, a wispy letter 'A' forms in the shadows and winks in and out of existence.


	5. Voyage

Day Five: Voyage (based on Lifeboat)

It was going to be a long way to shore. Even longer because Katara had no idea if the person they pulled out of the water would to survive the trip.

If her brother had anything to say about it, he wouldn't.

"He's been after us since the South Pole," Sokka passionately argued as he had for the past ten minutes. "Who's to say that when he wakes up, he won't start throwing fireballs all over the place to try and capsize us."

"For one thing, Appa isn't a boat," Katara patted the sky bison's fur in an offhand show of affection that earned a happy growl from the beast. "For another thing, even if he did try, it would only mean that he'd end up drowning, too. I don't know about you, but I don't peg Zuko for suicidal."

"Well, we already know he has problems."

 _"Sokka!"_

"I'm just saying."

Sokka raised his hands in surrender. One of them held the boomerang he'd been prepared to take the prince's head off with. Unconscious and waterlogged, this was the most vulnerable state Katara had ever seen Zuko in. His single patch of hair had come undone and hung loose in his face. Katara had to avert her eyes, because several times, the sight had made her fingers itch. She had a feeling his hair would be very soft like silk, and that he'd look much better if he had a full head of it. It would frame his face much better, and...

She must have swallowed more seawater before than she thought.

As her brother moved away, obstinately to sulk at losing the fight, he swerved at the last second and made a beeline for Aang. The Avatar had been at Appa's head, guiding him towards the sun and away from the smoke for the past hour and a half. He'd been quiet all that time, occasionally turning his head to see if Zuko was still out cold under blankets Katara provided. Otherwise, he was blind and deaf to everything not straight ahead of them.

"Aang, you don't think we should be saving _Zuko_ of all people, do you?"

The hope in Sokka's voice made Katara roll her eyes. Did he actually think there was any chance Aang would agree with him?

"I don't think we should throw him into the water, if that's what you mean." Aang glanced at Sokka briefly, long enough to catch his falling expression and childish puffing of his cheeks as he turned his back to them.

"I didn't mean it like that, I just want to make sure the three of us are safe," he mumbled.

"What do you think Zuko can even do in this state?" Katara asked. She had leaned over to check his breathing. Her hand pressed into his chest to feel for a heartbeat, which she found to be steadier than all the other times. That was a relief (more of a relief than she thought it would be).

"Katara's right, Sokka, he almost died."

Several miles behind them, sinking little by little into the depths of the sea, was the charred remains of Zuko's ship, sunk in a brutal attack by one who should have been on his side. Whoever this General Zhao guy was, he might be bad enough to make the Fire Nation prince look like nothing more than a bully pushing smaller kids' heads in the snow. Maybe they'd been lucky it had been Zuko who landed on their shores that day. Unlike Zhao, _he_ left everyone alive.

"Well, I'm keeping an eye on him, and we're dropping him off the moment we hit land. That's all I have to say about it."

Sokka sat against Appa's saddle, crossing his arms and lowering his head to watch Zuko beneath his brow. The effect of his posture would have been very intimidating were Sokka older and taller and could legitimately threaten a firebender. At least now he was keeping quiet and not trying to argue anymore. After fourteen years (fifteen in four months) of knowing her, he should have at least been aware of how stubborn Katara could be. When she wanted something- _really_ wanted it- that was the end of the story. No arguments would be had. That was the reason they were on this journey in the first place. Katara wanted a waterbending master. She wanted to be the one to train the Avatar in her element. And so, here they were.

She stayed at Zuko's side, wishing there was something more she could do than just watch him sleep. Enemy he may have been, watching someone die was the last thing Katara wanted to do. Not that she thought he would die, not anymore. There had been a time, when they first picked him up and Katara had been forced to clumsily bend the water out of his mouth before he choked on it, that she had really believed he wasn't going to make it. Their greatest foe (so far) was going to go in one of the worst ways possible (Gran Gran always used to say that the water's wrath was to be feared, because to drown was more painful than to be burned by the hottest fire). Then he had started improving, slowly at first, then more and more his color returned, and his breaths came stronger, and he grimaced and groaned whenever Appa made a sharp turn to avoid a passing school of fish. Though he had yet to wake up, Zuko proved his strength just by surviving this long, and Katara wouldn't be surprised if he was sitting up and making threats within the hour.

Until and unless that time came, Katara kept to her post, looking out at the long stretch of ocean and the barest hint of land on the horizon. She felt Zuko move and turned to see him gritting his teeth. His body seized up, his chest rising off the ground for just a moment, and then he fell flat again and returned to his bitter slumber. He had changed positions slightly, one hand flailing out to the side in front of Katara. She followed the trail of his pale arm to where his fingers stopped, and realized that the very tip of his longest two fingers were what she had been feeling pressing into her own.

Katara jerked away with a squeak. She looked up to make sure Sokka hadn't seen (he'd probably use it as an excuse to get the boomerang out, to 'protect her honor' or something like that), and nearly laughed at the trail of drool falling from his mouth as he snored. So much for keeping an eye on Zuko.

She started to relax, watching the sky and the passing clouds that all seemed to be shaped like fish. It helped distract her, if only just, from the memory of when her and Zuko touched for that single, passing moment, and that electric buzz her skin tingled from even now.

That distant line of land grew larger by the minute, but it was still such a long way to shore.


	6. Integrity

**A/N: As much as I can, I have tried to keep these oneshots true to the canon universe. Obviously, they're all AU by default thanks to Legend of Korra, but I still wanted to keep everything as close to canon events as possible. As such, this is the only entry that can be considered a straight AU of the whole series, because there was simply no logical way I could apply the plotline of Marnie to Zuko and Katara otherwise, and I really wanted to do something based on this movie (it's one of my favorites).**

* * *

Day Six: Integrity (based on Marnie)

There was a rule every Fire Lord before him had followed to the letter. That rule was that a nation could only flourish through their ruler's honor and strong morality. For the year and a half that Zuko had worn the crown, he did his best to live up to that ideal. His father had done so in the worst way possible (nowhere does it say the ruler's morals have to be _good_ ones), and now it fell to his son to pick up the pieces of an empire, and succeed where those who came before him had failed. Nothing could have been more important.

That was why he worked so hard to foster good relations with the other nations.

One month ago, he sat at the head of a State Dinner in the heart of the Earth Kingdom, after overseeing the marriage of a high-ranking Fire Nation noble to a slightly lower in class Earth Kingdom lady. The month before that, he began laying out plans for a new Republic City where people from all walks of life could live together in a fully integrated setting. Two weeks ago, he hired a young and intelligent Water Tribe woman to be his personal secretary and handle his affairs while he was otherwise occupied.

Yesterday, he witnessed her sneaking out of his office in the dead of night with an armful of priceless decorations and Fire Nation minted gold.

Today, she didn't show up for work. 

* * *

Luckily, Zuko memorized her home address. Even more lucky is that she didn't lie about it.

A sweet old lady with a bum leg and poor eyesight happily led him upstairs, talking on end about how nice it was that the new girl had a handsome young man calling on her.

"She's been here for a month now, and I haven't seen anyone come to call on her before," said the landlady. "She's a sweet girl, if very quiet. I'm glad she's starting to settle in and make friends. You seem like such a nice young man."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Zuko said.

"Has anyone ever told you you look just like the Fire Lord?"

"I've... heard it before."

She showed him to her room and then shuffled off to give them privacy.

"Let me know if you two get hungry and I'll bring you some snacks."

"I will, thank you."

He waited for the old woman to disappear down the stairs, and then he pressed his ear to the door, listening for voices or movement. He got plenty of both. She was running around her room from the sound of it, tossing things back and forth and muttering loudly to herself about needing to hurry and the next ship out to the South Pole. Zuko tried the knob, it turned with ease and the person inside was too frantic to notice. Without further preamble, Zuko threw open the door, and met a small boarding room in disarray with it's tenant in the middle, her hair a mess and half her things loaded into a trunk. She stood frozen, like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Hello, Kya," he said, walking with confidence into the room and shutting the door, "if that is your real name."

She dropped the shoe she'd been holding. It bounced and landed next to a mostly identical one wedged under the bed. It didn't look like she'd noticed it yet. She walked around the mess, stepping easily over clothing and scrolls, never taking her eyes off of him. If Zuko didn't know better, he'd say she was looking for an opening to make a break for it. He was blocking her only exit, so unless she was willing to jump from a fourth story window, she was out of luck.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

"You put your address in your resume when you applied for the job," he said. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door, just to make it clear that there was no way out. "That wasn't very smart, not if you intended to rob me from the beginning."

She swallowed and closed her eyes. There was a bowl full of water sitting on the dresser, and it struck him that she'd also mentioned being a waterbender in her resume. That could very well have been another lie, but he stayed alert regardless.

"Who says I robbed you?" she asked. It was a weak attempt and they both knew it.

"Have you done this before?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"Answer mine first."

"Why should I?"

Zuko raised an eyebrow. She was being intentionally obtuse, he could see that a mile away. Risking giving her the freedom to get away, Zuko walked across the room to the trunk on the bed.

"Where is it? Where is everything you stole?"

"Hey, you have no right to touch my things!"

She tried to push him away, but Zuko was bigger than her, and stronger, too. He held tight to her wrists, pulling her flush against him. She fought and struggled in vain. She threatened to scream but never did. At the bottom of her trunk, under some folded pairs of leggings, he spotted a hint of gold.

"Listen, I don't want to hurt you," he said, close to her ear. "If you stop now and tell me where everything is-"

"You'll what?" she spat. She turned her head as much as she could, and there was venom in her eyes. Something else, too. Something he couldn't quite place. "You won't arrest me? You'll let me go? Don't make me laugh, _Fire Lord._ "

His eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?"

"You caught me red handed," she cried, giving one more big pull that freed one of her wrists. Zuko held fast to the other. "You're the ruler of the Fire Nation. I may not be from around here, but I know the law. Stealing from you is pretty much treason. I'll be in jail for the rest of my life if I'm lucky, and if I'm not..."

She pulled again. Zuko was ready for it this time and he refused to let her get away from him. If he was honest with himself, most of what she'd taken was unimportant or replaceable. The whole reason he was here at all was just that; he wasn't going to let her leave.

"What if I told you," he said, "that I can grant you a full pardon if you do something for me."

She stared at him. "Like what?"

"There's a banquet coming up at the end of the week. It's a very big event. Dignitaries from all three nations will be there. Even the Avatar himself is going to make an appearance."

"I know," she said. She'd finally stopped pulling. "I had to write out all the invitations by myself."

Zuko quirked a smile. "The thing is that I need an escort, and my advisers believe I should take a non-Fire Nation woman. If I'm going to continue working towards bettering foreign relations, it will look good for the public to see me arm in arm with someone of another culture."

"And you're asking me to be that someone," she said, filling in the blanks.

"For the one night, yes." Zuko saw the look of incredulity creeping across her face and continued. "It's that or I can take you right now to prison."

She flinched. He hadn't wanted to play that card so fast, or really at all. It felt cruel, even if she was a thief. It struck him that feeling sorry for a criminal and wanting to make her feel comfortable was a little odd, but then, Azula had always said he was too soft in these matters. Maybe she'd been right all along.

"Why would you ask me to do this after what I did?" It was less of a question and more of a demand.

Zuko shrugged. "I don't know. Why did I hire you in the first place without any references?"

She started to speak, but no words came out. There were no words for any of this. They were in an impossible situation and they were both a little less sane for it. Why shouldn't it go on another day, and maybe even longer after. There was no telling how the night would go if she accepted. And she _would_ accept. Of that, he was certain. There was no other choice for her.

She looked at him, and then she looked at the pile of her belongings sitting on her bed and in her trunk, and then she looked at something beyond him. Her breaths came slow and even.

"My name isn't Kya," she said after a long while. "Kya was... it doesn't matter. My real name is Katara."

"Katara," Zuko repeated. It was a nice name. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue. "Do we have a deal?"

She stared at his outstretched hand, hesitated, as if afraid it would burst into flame the minute she touched it. She still did after a time, and he thought her hand fit well in his.

"Deal."


	7. Maelstrom

**A/N:** **I'm not going to lie, I thought I wouldn't be able to make it this year, but it all work out as it always does.**

 **I hope everyone had a great Zutara Week. I'll see you all next year!**

* * *

"It's just up ahead, right around this canyon."

They've been travelling through the desert for close to an hour, ever since leaving their caravan to wait for them. It's entirely possible that they'll be turned away before they can set foot in the village, and so it's best if they are waited for, just in case. In the event that they are not thrown out, their guide has orders to head back to camp and wait for their signal in the morning. They shouldn't want to stay more than twenty four hours if it all goes well. It isn't that Zuko _wants_ to leave quickly, only that he's been inordinately busy since becoming the Fire Lord. Every day, it seems, someone has a new problem, or there's a new legislation for him to approve, or there's another commotion in the streets because some people don't understand that the war is over and Ozai isn't coming back.

That he was able to get even this much time off to visit the Earth Kingdom is a minor miracle.

Katara accompanies him because that's what wives-to-be do for their future husbands. More importantly, it's what friends do for friends. She's interested in this little village Zuko speaks of so fondly, and sadly. She wants to understand the regret in his words when he talks about the boy he befriended. Lee. He had liked him enough to use his name when hiding out from Azula. Now, it's time to see what became of him in the last year and a half. He was probably taller now, more mature. The last time they met, he told Zuko he hated him. Time will have softened that rage. The end of the war and the new reign of peace will have shown the tiny village that some firebenders can be trusted. At least, that's what Zuko hopes.

A bird flies overhead as they make their way across city limits. Strange. Zuko didn't remember seeing any birds around here last time.

"I don't see anyone," Katara says.

Zuko looks around, and indeed, there are no people. It's not that unusual. It's early in the day, and it's possible no one has woken up yet.

They enter the village, and Zuko instantly gets a negative feeling from the place. Last time he was here, this village was under siege from selfish Earth Kingdom soldiers. They've long since been driven out. Now, everything is quiet, and that's the thing that bothers Zuko the most.

It's _too_ quiet here.

Another bird glides to a tall building and joins six or seven others perched on a door that's been left open. Inside is pitch black, not even the sun streams through. Taking a closer look, Zuko feels a sinking sensation as he realizes the windows have been boarded up.

"What is going on around here?" he asks.

Katara shakes her head and points. "I don't know, but I think we should move. Those birds don't look right."

Zuko glances at them. They glance back. Their beady black eyes seem to cut through his defenses and eat away at his soul. He doesn't know how to describe it, he doesn't even know if it isn't just his imagination, but he agrees with Katara either way. Something's not right.

"Hey!"

The voice came from behind them, from a crack in one of the plywood boards that's just wide enough for half a face to stick out. Zuko takes a step towards the building, which appears to be a tavern of some sort. He stays ahead of Katara, knowing that she'll chastise him later for being overprotective. Right now, he doesn't care.

"Sir, where is everyone?" he asks. "Why are the streets empty?"

"Those of us left are hiding," says the man. Someone deeper inside starts speaking, but their words are impossible to make out. The man turns around to shush them. "You should be hiding, too. Unless you two want to get your eyes pecked out."

"Pecked out?" Katara has caught up with him, and she stares at the man's one eye in horror. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the birds! Can't you see them?"

The flapping of wings draws their attention. Zuko turns to see that the number of birds had multiplied again. Twenty or so had sat upon the roof just minutes ago. Now, there are hundreds, all big and black and staring down at Zuko and Katara like a starving man before a plate of food. Some have their wings outstretched, not flying yet but ready to lift off. One wrong move, and they'll swarm. What they will do, Zuko can't say, but he takes Katara by the hand and her pulls her close.

"What is happening here?" Zuko wonders aloud.

"Buddy, if I knew, I'd tell you," says the man. "All I can say is they started acting crazy about a week ago, flying around in a swarm and scratching everyone to death. They always show up around this time of day, so I'd recommend you find some shelter and do it _now_. Would let you in myself, except we're already pretty full in here."

"Wait!" Zuko says before he can leave. "Just tell me... do you know a boy named Lee?"

"Lee? You mean Gansu's boy? Of course!"

"Do you know if he's all right?"

"Last I checked, him and his mother were stocking up to barricade the cellar. That was about two days ago. If those damn rats didn't get to them, that's were they'll be."

He disappears before Zuko can thank him. Another board falls into place, and now the street is as devoid of life as it ever was. Only the birds remain. The birds and Zuko and Katara. They've started cawing at them, a wave here and there of bird calls that are menacing in a way Zuko never thought possible. He clutches Katara's hand. She clutches back, though there is no fear in it. There's none in her eyes either. Her free hand is next to her water pouch. The sun is high in the cloudless sky. There's a pair of swords on his back and a dagger in his satchel. They're both ready for a fight, unlikely as their foes my be.

"Come on, I know where to go from here."

They walk very slowly down the street, no sudden movements. Thousands of eyes follow them, heads turning unnaturally far to watch them pass. Everywhere Zuko looks, it seems more birds are appearing. They come out of nowhere. One minute an area is clear, the next it's home to sharp, grasping talons and a sea of rustling feathers. One bird caws at Katara when she gets too close. The sound makes her jump and Zuko holds her tighter.

"Be careful," he tells her.

"Easier said than done," she says, and when Zuko looks at her next, he sees the first hints of fear break through. They match his own. "What are we going to do?"

They leave the main street behind, and beyond it is no relief from the infestation. Birds line every rock and every upturned piece of farm equipment. The fields have been ravaged, nothing let but shreds of leaves and dying stalks. A scarecrow has been picked apart with straw scattered in the wind. It's missing a face and both arms. There are ten birds perched atop it, watching. Always watching.

"We'll do the same thing we always do," Zuko says, as together they move further into the maelstrom.


End file.
